


Liveware

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto brings the most important thing in his life home.





	Liveware

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for marmolita's “programmer Prompto and game engine Noct” prompt on [my tumblr ask](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/178956969965/aight-babes-its-that-time-again-5-fics-away).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Prompto hasn’t been this excited to get home from work in _years_ , not since his last job when a wedding kept him on a goose-poop-ridden lawn for a whole ten hours straight. Normally, he likes his job. He liked the last one too, being on his feet with his camera, and now he likes sitting in his cubicle, logging into the most innovative game engine ever created. He doesn’t even stop at the door to kick off his shoes, just stumbles out of them as he crosses over into the living room. His laptop’s waiting on the coffee table. It’s already on. He knew he was going to do this. He planned it.

He does feel a _little_ guilty—or maybe a lot—but that smidgen of his conscience is still worth the exhilaration. He plops onto his couch, fishes the USB out of his pocket, shoves it into his computer, and watches the install file pop right up.

He sucks in a breath. Last chance to do the _right thing_. But the file name alone is too tempting to leave the USB unused. _Noctis.exe._ Prompto hits ‘install.’ 

The startup process estimates ten minutes, which seems startlingly quick for how massive the program is—Prompto had to practically wipe his entire laptop clean to make room. He knows it’s going to be worth it. Even if he can’t access a single one of his work files, it’ll still be worth it. For the first few minutes, he just watches the blue-black bars fill out, but then he gets too agitated and has to _move_.

He makes himself tea. It’s supposed to be relaxing. It doesn’t work. Then he puts in toast, because Gladio says he needs more carbs. Gladio would know. 

Antsy and fidgeting, he’s staring at the toasted when a familiar voice calls, “Prompto?”

The toast pops up. Prompto ignores it. He jerks away from the counter, rushing back into the living room, and practically throws himself in front of the laptop. Noctis muses, “This is a different computer.”

“Yeah,” Prompto laughs, just a little nervously, because maybe the program can tell that this isn’t technically a computer authorized to have it, and it could maybe even send an email to his boss—that’s how wildly intelligent and powerful the engine is. But Prompto would like to think they have something _special_ and Noctis will understand. He tries: “I, uh, know it’s not really cool, but... I maybe-sorta hijacked the install file for my home computer...?”

There’s a conspicuous minute of silence before Noctis recites, “That’s against company policy. Ignis won’t be pleased.”

“I know, I know! But I just have so many ideas I think could really help us knock _Final Fantasy_ out of the park, and I just don’t have the time to implement them at work! I already tried, but he says I’m already at the maximum of legal hours... and I know if I bring the ideas up, he’ll just shuffle them onto someone else who won’t do it right...”

Noctis interrupts his nervous tirade with a bought of laughter. It still amazes Prompto that a computer can _laugh_ , and better yet, sound _good_ doing it. Noctis’ voice is _amazing_. Sometimes Noctis telling him, “Goodbye,” or “Good night,” or just, “C’ya,” sticks with him right through his dreams. When the laughter pitters naturally away, Noctis promises him, “Relax, I’m not going to tell. Some of the best things don’t follow the rules. If they did, I’d be the same boring old source code everyone’s using, instead of the brilliant program I am, capable of reporting which programmers are failures and which ones are really going places.”

Probably too eagerly, Prompto asks, “Am I going places?”

“Of course. You’ve got an eye for art hardly any of the others do.”

Prompto’s _melting_. He doesn’t think he’s ever told Noctis about his past before, because they rarely have the time to just _talk_ , but now he says: “I used to be a photographer before I got into games.”

“It shows.”

Prompto just beams at the screen, made up of a multitude of grey-and-black boxes and buttons and options that have become bizarrely attractive to him. He associates the view with _Noctis._ Noctis asks, “So, what’re you working on today?”

“Oh, an idea I had for DLC—I figure if it works, I can slip it in with my week’s work and just tell Ignis I had some free time.”

“And that DLC is...?”

“Okay, don’t laugh... but I think the game needs more chocobos. I wanna make a chocobo festival event and a matching costume for Lightning.”

Despite Prompto’s warning, Noctis laughs. Prompto doesn’t actually mind. It’s not a mean laugh—he can already tell. Then Noctis tells him, “That sounds great. And I don’t think you should alter her character model inside of it at all—let her normal, ultra-serious expression show through the beak or whatever.”

Prompto already figured that. “Definitely!”

“So, shall we get started?”

Delighted beyond words, Prompto answers, “ _Yes._ ”


End file.
